Crawl (2019)

Director: Alexandre Aja

Starring: Kaya Scodelario, Barry Pepper, Ross Anderson, Anson Boon, Jose Palma, Morfydd Clark

Running Time: 87 min.

Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Anyone familiar with that memorably hilarious and gasp-inducing scene in 1997's Anaconda when Jon Voight's certifiable snake hunter Paul Serone is eaten whole before his winking corpse is regurgitated might soon get flashbacks. It's a spectacular moment in a less-than-amazing, but ridiculously fun film that's best enjoyed in the presence of a game audience in a packed theater. And it's hard not to think of it while watching horror maestro Alexandre Aja's Crawl and assume it had to be somewhere in the back of the director's mind as he crafted a horror disaster entry many assumed would veer closer to Sharknado, but with killer crocs. Instead, it is still somewhat funny and ridiculous, but in the best way possible, and also much better made than those aforementioned titles it seemed destined to resemble in quality. Quentin Tarantino going so far as to name this his favorite film of 2019 might come as a surprise to no one given his eclectic tastes, but he's on to something in that genre movies this well executed are too frequently dismissed out of hand on their premise alone. While I wouldn't rank it nearly that high (or maybe even at all), it's at least easier to appreciate that praise when final product does undeniably deliver a good time. 

After a disappointing practice, University of Florida swimmer Haley Keller (Kaya Scodelario) gets a call from her older sister Beth (Morfydd Clark) from Boston warning her that Category 5 Hurricane Wendy is about to make landfall in Florida and that she should evacuate. But when it occurs to Haley that she should check on her estranged father, Dave (Barry Pepper), she discovers he isn't at his condo, but their old Coral Lake family home she thought he sold when her parents divorced. After deceiving a police officer Beth used to date, she's able to get into the quickly flooding area to find him unconscious and trapped in the crawl space under the house, seriously injured from an alligator attack.

While attempting to drag her dad out, Haley realizes they have more company than anticipated, as multiple alligators have managed to sneak through the storm drain and have them trapped. With a rapidly intensifying storm and flood waters rising, Haley and Dave must fight injury and hungry gators to swim out of the basement to safety. But what's waiting for them outside isn't much of an improvement.

At first glance, it may not be obvious just how effective a thriller this is because so many like it are dumped into theaters each week before disappearing, often justifiably. If the set-up doesn't inspire confidence that we're in for something dramatically different, that's mostly because we're not. And that's okay since Michael and Shawn Rasmussen's straightforward script leaves so little room for missteps, allowing enough leeway for Aja to do what he's done "best" in some of his previous horror entries, frequently to the point of overkill. Usually, dabbling in more mainstream, accessible fare like this would seem to be the kiss of death for a director  synonymous with the disparaging "torture porn" label, but this time around he's considerably more focused on ratcheting up the tension. 

If alligators dining on humans is a major component, the survival story still takes center stage, with some of the best scenes and sequences revolving around this father-daughter tandem putting their heads together while working on their own personal baggage. The gator attack scenes are spectacular, as Aja takes a page out of the Spielberg playbook in resisting the temptation to overexpose them, making their well-timed appearances count. Doing a superior job to most in avoiding to break the rules of the world he's created, the CGI gators aren't some kind of hybrid reptilian mutants gifted with incredible speed, but instead moving how real ones would, and unexpectedly faster if necessary. This leads to many exciting scenes with Haley trying to outswim them as the always underrated Barry Pepper fights for his daughter and powers through the pain to concoct a plan.

Most recently seen as a bi-polar figure skater in Netflix's unfairly cancelled Spinning Out, Kaya Scodelario again makes you wonder how she isn't already a major star, physically and emotionally putting herself through the ringer as an athlete whose grit and credibility ground even the most questionable circumstances in a harsh reality. It's also easy to endorse a thriller that seems so invested in the fate of a dog, with hardly a moment going by where we're not at least made aware of the female terrier's whereabouts. I fully expected to only see the pet once or twice before they decided audiences just wouldn't care or think to remember, only to be thankfully proven wrong.

A young woman trying to save her father from alligators invading a basement during a hurricane explains all that's necessary in determining whether you're up for the ride. And yet that doesn't quite do Crawl justice. For what it is, it's kind of perfect. Strong, resourceful characters, a tight, no-nonsense script, a brisk running time and an impressive lead performance equals escapism done well. With a knowing, self-referential wink, it channels the spirit those cheesy 90's adventure thrillers while successfully managing to top more than a few of them. 

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile

Director: Joe Berlinger
Starring: Zac Efron, Lily Collins, Kaya Scodelario, John Malkovich, Jeffrey Donovan, Angela Sarafyan, Dylan Baker, Brian Geraghty, Terry Kinney, Haley Joel Osment, James Hetfield, Grace Victoria Cox, Jim Parsons
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The observation that notorious serial killer Ted Bundy "seemed like such a nice, regular guy" or "the last person you'd suspect" has almost become a cliché. We've heard it so many times, from both those who remember his murderous rampage when it happened, and even from a future generation exposed to him through documentaries like Joe Berlinger's Netflix's Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes. But in adapting his own documentary into the feature, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile. Berlinger takes a route few filmmakers have in trying to bring Bundy's depravity to the screen. He casts an actor entirely known for and defined by his affable charm and looks. And he doesn't ask him to trade on them, play it with a wink, or even give so much as the subtlest hint that he's a psychopathic monster.

When Zac Efron was selected to play Bundy the conversation didn't revolve around whether the somewhat unproven actor had the chops or could handle material this dark. That would remain to be seen while we wrestled with the bigger question of whether it was the most obvious of stunt casting. Well, it's not. The film has some problems that prevent him from going to the places he likely imagined he would, but he rises to the challenge anyway, making for a chilling Bundy by just simply being present and not trying too hard. At points, he even bares a surprising physical resemblance to the late killer, and it's to Berlinger's credit that Efron never rests on it, as both legitimately attempt to distinguish this film from the director's own superior documentary in ways both good and bad.

While this doesn't come close to equaling the raw power of the non-fictional account, that's expected when you're competing with footage of the real Bundy defending himself in court in what would be the nation's first televised trial and media circus. And that's just one of the many bizarre developments that are dramatized here, somehow supplementing our already existing knowledge of actual events. So Berlinger shifts our entry point, heavily focusing on Ted's relationship with his ex-wife, until he doesn't, before managing to circle back to it again. Keeping us at arm's length, this won't be confused with Zodiac or Netflix's own Mindhunter in terms of criminal psychology or quality. But as an overview of Bundy's crimes, it works just well enough, mostly due to that skillfull lead performance.

When aspiring lawyer Ted Bundy (Efron) meets college student and single mother, Liz Kendall (Lily Collins) at a Seattle bar in 1969, it's pretty much love at first sight for both. Liz's only concern is his potential reaction to the fact she has a daughter, which proves to be a non-factor when Ted is not only accepting of this revelation, but overjoyed to the point that he soon moves in with them. As they grow closer, news reports flood in about the murders of multiple young women at Lake Sammamish, with witnesses placing a young man resembling Ted's decription at the scene. After the release of a police composite sketch and some phone tips, he's arrested in 1975, even as he complains about it being a huge misunderstanding. The excuses ring hollow when he's positively identified by one of his victims in court, resulting in a 15-year sentence at Utah State Prison.  But before he can serve it, he's transferred to Colorado in 1977, where he's charged with the murder of Caryn Campbell. Unfortunately, that's just the beginning. 

Wrestling with the guilt and denial that her husband's a serial killer, Liz turns to alcohol to numb the pain, while a sideshow of unprecedented proportions play out in both the media and courtroom, as Ted not only manages to escape due to police incompetence, but somehow claim more victims. In an embarassing spectacle, he mocks the judicial system by serving as his own trial attorney, and envelopes another young woman in his web of deceit, reconnecting with Carol Anne Boone (Kaya Scoledario), an old law school friend who's obsessed with Ted, arriving in Florida to fight for his acquittal and act as his media spokesperson. As the public's fixation on Bundy continues long after his trial, Liz still must come to grips with the fact she married a monster. But to fully let go, she may need to have one final confrontation with the man she thought she knew.

Both as a dramatic story and matter of public record, Ted Bundy's case ranks among the strangest in true crime. And not just because of how he looked and came off since any psychiatrist who spent more than a few minutes with him knew they were in the presence of a sick sociopath. It's the details of the case that prove to be so mind-blowing and Berlinger cherry picks the biggest, most memorable moments of his documentary series and successfully dramatizes them here.

The script hits key events like Ted's two (!) improbable escapes from police custody, the failure of authorities across multiple states to successfully capture, or even identify, America's most wanted fugitive, press-hungry Florida Sheriff Ken Katsaris' (Kevin McClatchy) public humiliation of Ted on live TV, and the incredible speech delivered by Judge Edward Cowart (John Malkovich), inspiring  the film's title. It's strange hearing the Malkovich deliver it, temporarily forgoing his usual biting, sacastic tone for an excursion into sincerity and profound disappointment. It's a testament to the documentary's power that even an actor of his caliber can't match the footage of Cowart delivering it.

Berlinger pretty much abandons the device of telling this story from Liz's point of view once the trial starts, almost completely marginalizing Collins' role. She's a smokescreen for what ultimately becomes the Ted Bundy Show, as Efron takes full advantage of some of the killer's bigger showboating moments, with a courthouse packed with swooning young girls trying to get a glimpse of Ted as if he was a rock star. 

If smaller, supporting roles like Haley Joel Osment's as Liz's co-worker and Jim Parsons' as a prosecuting attorney don't seem to add much as a whole, there is one that the movie gets completely right. Even with barely a handful of scenes, the eccentric, somewhat terrifyingly bespeckled Carol Anne Boone is perfectly realized by Kaya Scoledario, capturing every unnerving physical and psychological detail of her creepy obsession with Ted. Those searching for a mirror into the public's fascination with this man and his crimes need not look any further than her desperate, vacant eyes.

In many ways, the film might best be remembered for what isn't included. Most notably, the actual crimes. Berlinger makes what must have been a very concious decision not to show anything, relying instead on news clips and audio recordings to convey the horror of these killings. With one very brief exception, it's left to our imagination how he gained his victims' trust and lured them in, or the discomfort and eventual terror they must have felt in his presence. While there's always a fear of exploitation in bringing true life tragedies to the screen, it can sometimes be equally insulting not to show anything, or appear to be brushing it under the rug.

No one "wants" to see a graphic reenactment of Bundy's crimes, but the decision to encapsulate them news report or documentary style is equally questionable, often relegating his victims to statistics instead of real people with lives and families. And yet it's easy understanding Berlinger's resistance in showing anything, at least for the sake of stopping Efron from veering into Dexter territory, alternating between his "normal" life and dark hobby as a serial killer. The best thing about his work is how it doesn't fall prey to any of that, giving no glimpses into his poisoned soul as he effortlessly plays us just as Ted did Liz.

After seeing Extremely Wicked, you'll still have a tough time remembering the names of any victims, and not just because we hardly see a single killing. Instead, the film seems intent on serving up a social warning that's just as timely now, while doing little to dispel notion that the media is more than willing to make celebrities out of killers looking for their 15 minutes. Thirty years after being put to death, Bundy's still extending his.